


Don't Forget Me

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Healthy Communication, F/M, Future Lucy has a mischievous streak, Insecurity, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 18:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: Across the circle, Flynn whispered something to her future self, who stifled a laugh, smacking him lightly on the arm.Not jealous. Definitely not jealous.





	Don't Forget Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deathmallow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathmallow/gifts).



> This is a fill for the Tumblr prompt "You're important, too" as a way to say "I love you."
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas!

Lucy Preston had a problem. A very specific problem. A six foot four problem, named Garcia Flynn.   
  
He'd been following her around like a shadow for the past three days.   
  
Not _her,_ of course. That wouldn't have been a problem, and in fact, it wouldn't have been that out of the ordinary. She might not have even noticed. After all, that's where he always was: By her side. Watching her back. It should have been annoying, or uncomfortable, especially given their history, but it wasn't. It was oddly comforting, knowing that he was there for her.  
  
Except that, for the past three days, he hadn't been.  
  
And yet, he had, because time travel was strange like that. He _had_ been following Lucy Preston around as closely as ever.  
  
But not her.  
  
The future version of her, the woman with shorter hair and sharper eyes, had become his new companion. He sat by her at dinner, talked with her in quiet corners, and drifted along behind her whenever she went to a different part of the bunker.   
  
For her part, future Lucy didn't seem to mind his presence. She smiled at him whenever he walked up, and leaned into him when he was close. It almost seemed like instinct, the way she fell into him, restinging her head on his shoulder when he sat beside her.   
  
And Lucy-Present Lucy-was...   
  
Not jealous. Of course she wasn't. Being jealous of herself, no matter the circumstances, would be ridiculous. Besides, she didn't even care. Right? One heartbreak was enough, and she definitely didn't want another. She cared about him, sure, but not so much that she would be upset by him spending time with another woman, especially since that other woman was technically her.   
  
So. Definitely not jealous. (The uncomfortable twist in her stomach was probably from the bunker food.)   
  
She shifted on the couch, forcing her attention back to the team meeting. Agent Christopher was discussing safety precautions for the upcoming mission. The mission to save Rufus. Of course, she couldn't go, because they needed an open seat in the Lifeboat.   
  
Across the circle, Flynn whispered something to her future self, who stifled a laugh, smacking him lightly on the arm.   
  
Not jealous. Definitely not jealous.   
  
"What do you think, Lucy?" Agent Christopher's voice cut through her thoughts, and she blinked. Which Lucy? (And if she took the slightest bit of satisfaction in the face that her future self looked equally caught off-guard, well.... No one could prove it.)   
  
She scrambled to think of a reply, but the other Lucy beat her to it. (Of course.)   
  
"I think you're right. The most important thing is making sure that Emma and-" She swallowed, eyes dropping briefly. "My mother don't see them them." It was the first real sign of vulnerability she'd given, and Lucy wasn't sure whether to be relieved, or disappointed that her mother was still a sore spot, so many years later.   
  
Flynn squeezed Future Lucy's arm gently, and she glanced at him. Said nothing, but the tension in her drained fractionally the tension in her drained fractionally. She rested her hand atop his, edging closer to him. Clearly, he was still as much a comfort to her as ever.   
  
It felt almost like she was intruding on a private moment, so Lucy turned away, her gaze settling-unexpectedly-on Wyatt. Present Wyatt, who looked just as uncomfortable with the display as she felt. (Just as jealous.)   
  
Agent Christopher cleared her throat.  
  
"Okay, we need to get ready for dinner. We've all got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. It's Flynn's turn to cook; Lucy, I assume you'll be helping him?"   
  
The question was, of course, aimed at her future self. Flynn smiled slowly, already rising to his feet, when the other Lucy shook her head. "Actually, I was thinking that _she_ should help him."   
  
Silence.   
  
Her future self was pointing at her, a half-smirk tugging at her lips. Suddenly, it occurred to Lucy that she would remember all of this when she did this in the future. Would know how... Uncomfortable she was. (Yes, uncomfortable. That was a good word. Not jealous, just unsettled by the strange interactions.)  
  
Flynn blinked, startled, and she tried to push down the hurt. Was spending time with her really so absurd a concept now? Still, after a moment, he nodded, making his way to the kitchen with a curious glance back at Future Lucy.   
  
Great.  
  
 Unless she wanted to make a scene, she had to follow.   
  
-  
At first, it wasn't so bad. They quickly settled into a rhythm, him actually cooking, her handing him supplies as needed. They barely spoke, beyond the necessary words, and the tension between them was suffocating.   
  
_Don't take this the wrong way, but I just think it's kind of insane that out of everybody here, you're the easiest to talk to._  
  
So much for that.   
  
Really, she shouldn't have been surprised. He never made any secret of his... Adoration, almost, of the Lucy who gave him the journal. The woman who pulled him out of his darkest moments, and gave him something to fight for. And for all that he had expected her to do so, Lucy had never quite met his impossibly high expectations. It made sense that now, with that Lucy- _his Lucy_ -by his side once more, he wouldn't need the cheap copy she was starting to feel like.  
  
Weak. Broken. Afraid.   
  
Hardly the Lucy he'd been hoping for.   
  
Still. She was a grown woman, if nothing else. She could handle this.   
  
So, they moved around the kitchen in relative silence, pointedly ignoring the growing awkwardness. Avoiding eye contact, as much as possible. (And it hurt, more than she could have expected. With everything that had happened, it seemed like someone had ripped open her heart, had torn it to shreds, and she wanted to go to him, to let him hold her like before, but he wouldn't even look at her.)   
  
Finally, the inevitable happened. She wasn't looking at him, he wasn't looking at her, and the kitchen was decently sized, but certainly not big. So when she turned too suddenly, nearly losing her balance, and found herself wrapped in warm, steady arms, (well, arm; he was still in that sling,) it caught her off guard, but maybe it shouldn't have.  
  
He didn't let go right away. Held her in place, as if he was afraid she would fall if he let go. ( _Or maybe,_ the hopeful part of her brain offered, _he just wanted to hold her._ She immediately pushed the thought away.) She ordered herself to pull away, but her body refused to obey. Clung to the back of his shirt for dear life. This... This felt right.  
  
After a beat, he stepped back, clearing his throat. Still feeling a little off-balance, she reached out, grabbing the nearby counter to steady herself.   
  
"Um." She swallowed. Forced a smile. "Sorry about that. I'll just..."   
  
"Lucy." She hated it when he said her name like that. Like he was seeing straight through her, and begging her to stop trying to fool him. "I'm... I'm sorry about this." He gestured to the kitchen vaguely. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."   
  
Something in her cracked. Just like that, he wanted nothing to do with her? Was her future self really so much better? Drawing from strength she never thought she'd have to use with him, she smiled brightly. "It's fine. Really. I mean, I'm sure you'd rather be with the other me, but-" To her horror, her voice cracked, and she fiercely ordered her emotions to stay in check. "I'm fine either way."   
  
Turning away before he could she the tears burning in her eyes, she started for the door. (Okay, fine, maybe she was a little jealous. She only had one person left in the world, and she wasn't even enough for him?)   
  
His voice stopped her. "Lucy?" Soft. Cautious. Unsure.   
  
She paused, but refused to look back. Crossed her arms protectively around herself. She'd let him have his say, reassure her that it wasn't her, it was him, or some nonsense like that, and leave him alone. Have a good cry, back in her room. (With the door locked, of course.)

"Hm?"   
  
"Why," he began carefully, "would you think that?"   
  
_Seriously?_ "I mean, you haven't left her side for three days, so-" No, no, no. That sounded bitter, that sounded angry, that sounded tearful-  
  
She needed to get out of there. Immediately.   
  
"I don't-" He hesitated. "I never meant to abandon you, Lucy." They never did. "I was trying to give you space."   
  
"Space?" Had she told him she wanted space? Maybe, but for the life of her she couldn't remember it.   
  
"I overstepped." His voice was closer now, almost right behind her, but he didn't touch her. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to or not. "In the warehouse. Seeing you hurt, it..." He sighed. "I wanted to make it better."   
  
_You did._ The words stuck in her throat, and her mind raced, trying to absorb this new information. He thought she was upset with him? For holding her together when everything was falling apart?   
  
"You didn't overstep." She could barely hear her own voice, but he must have, because he drew in a sharp breath, stepping even closer.   
  
"I saw you, and... Wyatt." Before she could latch onto that thought, he moved on, words coming out in a rush. "And I won't-I won't get in the way, Lucy. I won't pretend I understand, but I won't try to-you can make your own choices, and I respect that. But if that's how you feel, than what I did was-" He stopped. Took an obviously forced breath, buying them both time to collect their thoughts. "Over the line."   
  
Suddenly, she remembered how close he'd been, when the other Lifeboat arrived. Had he seen her and Wyatt then? Had he heard what Wyatt said? (Would it have mattered? They were sitting so close together... And the way Wyatt was looking at her-)   
  
_Oh._   
  
She'd been so upset about not being good enough for him, that it never once occurred to her that he might be feeling the same way about her.   
  
Slowly, cautiously, she turned. Took in his glassy eyes, the tremble in his hands, and the tension in his frame. Suddenly, it was all too easy to step forward, into his chest, and wrap her arms around him.   
  
He froze, briefly, but when she didn't pull away, he brought the arm not in a sling up to tuck her against him. This close, she could almost feel his unsteady breathing, could hear the pounding of his heart.   
  
"Wyatt and I were talking about Rufus." Her words were muffled by his shirt, but she knew he heard her. Felt the way his hold tightened. "Yes, he told me he loved me, but that doesn't mean...." She grappled for words, some way to explain that she couldn't just go back and pretend like Wyatt never left her, never pushed her for closeness he'd chosen to walk away from, but came up short. "You didn't overstep," she finished lamely.   
  
For a long moment, they said nothing, just held each other tightly. The room was silent, but for his ragged breathing.   
  
Finally, he found his voice. "I don't prefer her to you. Or you to her, for that matter. I prefer _Lucy,_ in any time." He was so passionate, so sincere, that she desperately wanted to believe him, but doubts tugged at her mind.   
  
“No, but she-she gave you the journal. And I know how important that is to you. I know-”

“You’re important, too.” He left no room for argument. “Lucy, you have to know that I-” He swallowed. Stroked her hair once, impossibly tender. “You have to know.”

_Why are you here?_

She’d wondered, then. Of course she had. But she’d assumed he was here for the woman she would become, not-not- “I know you were disappointed,” she whispered against his chest. Felt him freeze, breath caught. “By me. Because I wasn’t her.”

He didn’t deny it, and she was so grateful for it. She’d never forget the way he looked at her that night, when she stood between him and John Rittenhouse. Sure, there was anger, and definitely hurt, but underneath, there was a consuming disappointment. She was not the Lucy he wanted then, and she could hardly wrap her head around the idea of that changing.

“I was wrong,” he said instead. “If I could take back the things I said…. The things I did…” His fingers drifted from her hair to her neck, delicately tracing the skin there. It was her turn to stop breathing, and he pulled away quickly. “Sorry,” he murmured.

Of course he thought she was uncomfortable. Of course it wouldn’t occur to him that his touch was soft and gentle, and she was just savoring it.

“Lucy, I-” Once again, he hesitated. Seemed to be on the verge of saying something important. (And it had to be-it had to be-what else could it be-) “I care about you,” he said finally. “And if I ever made you doubt that, I’m sorry.”

Not quite a love confession, but he was taut, heart racing against her ear, and she knew he was scared of her reply. “I care about you, too.” It was surprisingly easy to say, all of the sudden.

He pulled back slightly, tilting her head up. Searching her eyes for any hint of insincerity. It was hard to hold his gaze, but he needed this. (Maybe they both did.) So she let him look, let him see the truth of her words, and smiled, weak but reassuring. “I care.”

He swallowed, once. His face was closer than she’d realized, close enough that his breath fanned her face. Her gaze dropped to his lips without her permission, and she quickly looked away. Hadn’t she been upset only minutes before? Hadn’t she been wondering if he cared about her at all? (His eyes were wide and open, desperate and unsure all at once. There was no doubting it now; she meant more to him than she’d ever dared to think.)

She raised her head, just slightly. Brought their faces even closer together. And waited.

For a long moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to do anything. He stared down at her, breathing shakily, but stood frozen in place.

Then, he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. His nose brushed hers, and she took a deep breath, reaching up to tug him in….

“Dinner almost ready?” She’d never hated the sound of her own voice quite that much.

She pulled back, reluctantly, and Flynn did the same, turning back to the stove just as future Lucy walked in. The woman was smirking ear to ear, as the rest of the team filed in behind her. Of course she knew what she was interrupting, Lucy mused. _Why would I-?_

“It’s ready,” Flynn answered, a bit belatedly. “Do you remember where the plates are?”

The other Lucy laughed. “I think I’ve got this place memorized,” she answered, going right to the cabinet.

Lucy avoided Flynn’s eyes as she went to get her own plate, trying to ignore her future self. No luck. The woman smirked, handing her a dish, and murmured, “Don’t worry.” A nod to Flynn. “It’s worth the wait.” Then, she actually _winked,_ of all things, before leaving her to get food.

And, well… She didn’t doubt it.

(He sat by her that night. Not her future self, but her, his knee brushing against hers under the table. Almost instinctively, she leaned into him.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Future Lucy was so fun to write, and I had a lot of fun exploring the different dynamics between the different Lucys and Flynn.


End file.
